


Out Of Her Mind & Stuck In One Place

by alinova



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinova/pseuds/alinova
Summary: An AU story set in the same universe as SS. Harley Quinn starts off as an inmate within Arkham Asylum... the psychiatrist known as Harleen Quinzel comes later. Twists and turns and a different take on the Joker x Harley explored briefly in SS.





	1. Chapter 1: Birdie & The Cage

**[ H ]**

What Harley couldn't understand was why the walls had to be so devoid of _colour_. The dark grey was so bleak and plain that it felt, ironically, that it was overwhelming. Harley needed _stimulation_ and she needed something to think about beyond the dark clouds her cell walls reminded her of. She was tired of thinking about the rain to distract herself. It was enough to see and hear it through the tiny window higher up in her cell wall, above her bed. This was where Harley spent most of her time, lounging about and contorting herself into various positions to keep herself flexible and capable. It would often be the case that guards happened to be passing by whenever she started her routine of stretching and limbering up - what a coincidence, huh?

Harley didn't care. She would use it to her advantage if she could.

She'd spent a lot of time the night before contemplating how different she was _inside_ her head when it was just her thinking things to herself - when the voices were quiet. She'd realised she was more intelligent, lost her accent and used vocabulary more effectively. Harley even mentioned words in her head that she'd never said _out loud_.

**"QUINN!"**

_Whoop-dee-doo, there was Snarly Charlie._

Harley sprung up from her bed and trailed over to the cell door, pale fingers curling deliberately around the bars, her head dropped to the side playfully,

"Hey, Charls..."

"First of all, that's not my name-"

"Specifics, Charls..."

"Stop it."

"Come _on_ , Snarly Charlie, I coulda gone for _worse_ , you know?"

"Shut it, Quinn."

" _Now_ , boss, that ain't no way to be speakin' to a lady!" Harley squeaked her indignance, her voice raising beyond the bounds of what the asylum would consider 'complacent'. Snarly Charlie shifted about on the spot in his big, bulky armour, glancing about to make sure no-one was about to come over and reprimand him for breaking protocol by way of provoking an inmate. Once sure that the coast was clear, he leaned in a little closer.

" _Listen to me_. You're just a freak behind bars, missy. You ain't some big shot killer, you're just a _nutcase_."

"Bub, it ain't no insult to be callled a little nutty."

"Oh, I can do better. You wanna know the _best_ thing about this, Quinn? No-one will believe you if you tell them what I said."

"Poooooh-ey! Bpppppllllttttt." Harley sounded a raspberry, jerking her thumb downwards in one quick motion to voice her dissent. Snarly Charlie didn't seem to be too pleased with her lack of reaction.

"Y-you're nothin' but a dumb, ditzy _whore_."

"Keep 'em, comin', old Snarly. I've been hit with worse." Harley taunted, wondering what it was they drilled into their guards when they trained them. This guy was like a sheep begging to be sheared.

"You-"

But he'd gotten too close to the bars, and Harley's hands shot out to grip at his armour, jerking him towards her with one sharp motion. Her high pitched, keening laughter began the moment she'd gotten her hands on him, and only increased once she'd smashed his head so hard against the bars that he bled... profusely. She laughed the whole time, even when the larger group of nearby guards arrived to swarm on her and knock her out.

All the noise and bustling and bodies and commotion hadn't stopped her from seeing another inmate down the corridor (her cell was a north facing one, right at the end of the hallway) being escorted away. She'd seen him before, Harley was sure, because... how could you _forget_ someone like that? His hair was vibrant green and his skin was pure, alabaster white - littered with the tattoos he'd acquired for himself. A tiny little intricate 'J' took up position on his cutting, left cheekbone. His torso held the mantle of the rest of them, and Harley was sure there were more to be added. The last time she'd seen him she'd spotted the perfect set of teeth he kept beneath bright red lips. He was a _showman_ , Harley remembered. He'd certainly been enjoying the show she'd put on, by the look of him in that brief couple of seconds she'd seen of him through the thick mass of guards. The men and women he had shepherding him towards his cell had a hard time containing him as he laughed and threw his head back in glee. The Joker was not a man you forgot. Once he caught your eye he had it forever.

Harley was not sorry for any trouble she'd caused the staff of Arkham Asylum. Why would she be?

There had been a time when Harley had actually cared about things like that - she'd been compassionate and kind and a little too gullible. None of that was ever destined to last for long when she'd grown up the way she had and it had all gone downhill early on in her 20s. It had _begun_ so casually. Harley remembered times when she would be out and about, heading to the shops for a loaf of bread or to the park for an evening walk, when she would hear a voice. Every time she heard it she would always turn to seek out who had spoken, glancing over her shoulder so frequently that she became paranoid. The paranoia only dragged her deeper into the madness, sadly. Soon the voices became more demanding, and grew exponentially - to the point where she couldn't even keep track of them - couldn't make note of them or distinguish them from each other. Her eyes started to do funny things, too; things she enjoyed. She'd see things strangely, things that weren't there, or she'd see things in such an exaggerated capacity that it would scare her. One cat became twelve, three lampposts in a row became an entire fleet, and a single parked car would became a legion of tanks. The paranoia got worse from there - breakouts of shrill, maniacal laughter and displays of extreme behaviour in public soon caught the attention of the GCPD; and Harley was taken in to be evaluated. She'd been locked up in Arkham Asylum for a good year now, and all traces of her former compassion had escaped her along with her sanity.

It wasn't until about a week later that she received the first note. It was snuck in with her food, folded haphazardly and tucked under a stale slice of bread. One of the edges was stained a little with the mush they'd served her, but apart from that it was untouched. After her demonstration last week, Harley had been banned from the cafeteria for a solid month. She wasn't sure what kind of a lesson this was supposed to teach her, for all she _did_ know for sure on the subject was that it had at her most lonesome, and caused her to be exceedingly grumpy and irate. Harley had actually been in such a foul mood that she considered tearing the note up before she'd even opened it, but then she caught sight of a cutesy, tiny little pink bow stuck to the underside, and the glee that filled her was so great that she tossed the tray of food up in the air with a big _whoop_ and excitable round of applause. Harley paused to listen out for staff members coming to investigate the noise, but it was the majority's lunch break, and so she was safe for the time being.

_'Dearest Harley Quinn,_

_a birdie with such talents and spice and vigor shouldn't be cooped up in a cage!_

_said birdie should be allowed to fly FREE and prosper._

_whaddya say? ready to be FREE of this joint? ;)_

_three flaps of a wing says birdie wants to fly FREEEE!'_

Harley blinked uncomprehendingly at the odd note. Birdie? Harley had never met no _birdie_ , nor had she ever owned one.

Unless... was _she_ the birdie? Oh! _Codenames!_ Just like spies and secret agents! Harley loved a good roleplay. She was buzzing about with excitement now - so invigorated by it, in fact, that she flipped about her cell until she'd worn herself out with the effort. That took a few hours. Once panting and sweaty and out of breath and momentum, Harley slumped back on her bed; thinking the note over. 'Three flaps of a wing says birdie wants to fly free' - what did this _mean?_ What did it even imply? All it brought to mind was Robin - Batman's cute little sidekick. Mmm... Robin... what could she _do_ with that? The concept had promise. Whoever this was, though... would they understand the message if she broadcasted it for them?

No harm in trying, right?

Harley got to her feet again, pacing forward to the bars. _Hours_ had passed since the note had been received, so there were now sheep milling about, blindly following the orders of their farmer overlords. Harley snickered, bashing her head against one of the bars to her cell lightly. She waited uncharacteristically patiently for a guard to pass by, and took in a deep breath before screaming, at the top of her lungs:

_"ROBIN! ROBIN! ROOOOBIIIIIIN! OH, TWEET, TWEET, TWEET! HAHAHAHHA-"_

She continued this same pattern in rules of three until it became a chant, and once again, the guards came to neutralise her.

"That's _enough_ , Quinn! Boy, are you determined to be a troublemaker this week, huh? Put one of my guys in the hospital just the other day. Don't go easy on this one, boys; she's a menace."

**[ ? ]**

She waited for the signal just like she'd been told to - followed Joker's instructions to a _tee_. She'd had dealings with him before, and had learned the hard way that it was not wise to disobey the Joker in any way, measure or form. He was a generous man when he was getting what he wanted. The sudden, disturbing cries of Harley Quinn's hollers from down the hall sent shivers up her spine and brought goosebumps to her flesh. That woman was not _well_. Harley Quinn was a lethal combination in a place like this - she was pretty and completely cracked and as insane as the worst of them, and yet she was still clever - she still had her intellect. It hadn't surprised her when word had reached her through the right sources that The Joker had caught sight of her and _wanted_ her. Now for what, exactly, she had no clue. She liked to keep the need to know mindset - it kept her safe, and it kept Joker generous - which kept the money flowing.

 _"ROBIN! ROBIN! ROOOOBIIIIIIN! OH, TWEET, TWEET, TWEET! HAHAHAHHA-"_ Harley continued to cry out at the top of her lungs, the chant taking on a musical lilt now, accompanied with the sound of something colliding with metal to serve as the beat. It was a clever message, too, and she found herself oddly proud of Harley. Nice interpretation of _'wings'_. It was what she'd been told to listen out for, and that meant she was obliged to take a highly detailed note of it (as Joker would accept nothing less) and get the little scrap of paper passed along to him as promptly as possible.

**[ H ]**

Harley awoke in solitary confinement - arms trussed up in a straitjacket and all. The works. They'd done a real number on her. With no hands to push the hair out of her eyes and mouth, she resorted to tossing her head aggressively from side to side until her face was free from her own intrusive, long, blonde strands. Harley whined quietly to herself, wriggling about on her backside, her legs tangling and writhing about as she tried to get to her feet. The act took her a good ten minutes, but eventually she developed a system of pushing herself over to the wall with her feet, and then using that as a surface to wriggle up, playing the resistance to grab a position and _push_ herself until she was upright and on her feet. Not that this did her any good, but... the sense of accomplishment was something she could hold onto while she had all this... _nothing_ around her. This was worse than her cell - and it was supposed to be - at least her cell had a bed and a window. Harley jumped once, twice, a third time - needing to express her outrage somehow.

 _"You're going to regret this, pigs!"_ She shrieked childishly, that thick accent of hers colouring to to make it seem like the taunts of a petulant child.

Harley was so much more. She was a fucking _hurricane_.

She sped about the room, flipping and jumping and twirling and rolling to prove her point - to add imagery to the label she'd given herself. Harley _screamed_ in indignation and would have been pulling her hair out with her madness if her hands hadn't been strapped so tightly to separate parts of her torso. All in all, Harley didn't react to the experience all too well. She'd only been in solitary once before, and it had been so much worse; but that didn't stop Harley from responding just as badly.

On what she was sure must be the third day of her isolation, Harley managed to give herself a nosebleed by headbutting the only hard thing in the room - the door. The rest of the room was padded and somewhat sound proofed, and the material was all white, so she gladly bled all over that.

The sixth day (if Harley had been counting right - she never did) was an interesting one, because she received a second note along with her dinner of slim pickings. She struggled with the paper but eventually managed to use her toes to open it, and squinted at it, tilting her head to try and read it.

_'what a home arkham's been to the little birdie~_

_sadly, all birdies must one day leave the nest and venture NEW HORIZONS!_

_the day is coming, little birdie... GET READY. ;)'_

The nice little touch this time had been a sparkly little green smiley sticker, placed very purposefully at the end of the message. Harley gave a little peal of delighted laughter upon spotting it, and tried her best to peel it off to keep, but found that after a good few hours of trying; she simply couldn't.

Harley was too eager for what was to come to sleep properly that night, so she stretched and practised and when she was done with that she curled herself up into the best foetal position she could manage and simply rocked frantically to keep herself moving. She had to keep moving. Always. Always had to be moving.

They must have slipped her pills and medications into her food, because she wasn't seeing anything or hearing anything, and everything was still as boring as it had been back in her cell a few levels up.

Harley was still rocking when there was a rattle of keys just outside, though she perked up and _prayed_ to a God she just didn't believe in that it was her rescuer. She rocked even still when the key was inserted into the door, and when the door began to heave open. Whoever it was pushing it was impressive with their strength - usually it took two or three guards to get _that thing_ open. Harley finally pushed herself over to the nearest wall and struggled to her feet when _he_ stepped into the room. Eyes accustomed to the darkness the way that they were now, Harley saw his eyes before she saw the rest of thim - they flashed white and were open slightly too wide. It was terrifying and _thrilling_ and intoxicating just to be in such a presence. Harley took a few steps to approach the light, squinting against it to make out his silhouette. He had his arms outstretched and his lips parted to reveal a shocking display of teeth. He beckoned to her, shirtless and intimidating,

"Come along, little birdie... we gotta bust you outta this _cage_."

He licked his lips, beckoning her still, eyes (she could tell, even in the gloomy darkness) never leaving her, though his head gave a slight nod on repeat in an unintentional movement. He was eager for her to join him - that much was clear. Harley had even suspected it was him behind all this, but what use could she be to The Clown Prince himself? He was right up there at the top, while she was quite literally stuck down here at the bottom.

He got impatient then and grabbed at her once she was close enough to him, snatching her out of her isolated room and yanking her away with him down the abandoned corridor towards chaos.


	2. Chapter 2: The Switch

**[ H ]**

Everything had dissolved into chaos on the floors above. Men and women that Harley recognised from the neck down (even with the bizarre animal and character heads cloaking their appearances) flooded the corridors and the cells. It looked as if Joker had hired someone to raid a costume store and ordered them to only steal the heads. Harley reckoned that Joker had somehow employed every single inmate in the asylum - and that they were out in full force now that Joker had called for them to leap into action.

"Keep _up_ , Harley Quinn! Dontcha know that time is _money?!"_ Joker crowed to her, strides and strides ahead of her without even realising it. His legs were lengthy and sinewy and long. Harley possessed deceptively dainty, strong, gymnast's legs. She had to skip and leap and hasten to keep up the way he'd asked her to.

"Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp..." she murmured distractedly, eyes flitting about like a paranoid cat in unknown territory. Joker cackled, left arm swinging along merrily by his side while the other was busy secured around her shoulders to steer her about with him. Harley was still wearing the straitjacket - her arms had long ago gone completely numb. She noticed Joker was holding himself differently to the way he had been before, in the corridor of her isolation room. He was holding himself higher, like a boxer on the way to the ring - he squared himself up a little to make himself more intimidating. It was good for his image, and it kept his goons obedient. With further examination, Harley noticed the new exaggerations to his swagger. Just as she'd labelled him before; he was a showman through and through - and nothing could change the fact. No amount of shock therapy or different rounds of prescriptions and pills could bring about a change within him - and this was just something Harley knew. She was a girl who got _feelings_ or instincts about things, and they were _always_ right.

Eventually, after enough skirting around maniacs and headbutting the occasional surviving guard; they arrived at The Joker's pre-planned destination. Quincy Sharp's office. The man himself was nowhere to be seen, but Joker didn't seem to take notice of it; expected it, even. He simply strolled forwards, arm still slung casually around her shoulders, and scooped a pair of scissors up from the desk. He whistled to her and motioned with his finger for her to twirl around.

"Snip-snip and birdie goes _free_ ," he growled - a gleeful malice on his lips. Harley did as she was told, still not much for conversation after her recent ordeal in isolation. Joker frowned, his bloody lips contorted into something that was clearly attempting to be a pout but failed due to the snarl in place that he couldn't seem to shift. Abruptly, he dropped the scissors with a clatter back onto the desk and leant over it towards her, fingers propping him up in little triangular arches, "Tsk, tsk, tsk... where'd you store ya _manners_ , Harley Quinn?" Joker growled, face angled slightly downwards as he half glared at her.

Harley had been staring off to the right, attention fixed on the various diplomas hung up on the walls, but now it slipped back to him in pieces, and then all at once. She tilted her head at him very slowly, long hair trailing over the edge of her shoulder to tumble down her side. _She couldn't help it if the walls were dancing!_

"I'm very grateful, Mister. Just shocked is all."

"J," he prompted.

"Huh?"

"Call me J or Joker or Mister Joker - even knock yourself out with _Rumplestiltskin_ , if it takes your... fickle... fancy. Just say my _name_ , crazy. It ain't a struggle."

Harley blinked, lips jutted slightly to indicate she was considering it - and then she _had_ it - it _came_ to her like an epiphany: "Mistah J!" she exclaimed like a goddamn TV show host. Joker stared at her for a split second, scarlett lips parted in something akin to consideration, and then, completely out of the darkness he bathed in; this glorious, world encompassing smile cracked across his face, filled with glee. He genuinely seemed to be beyond delighted with her on-the-spot nickname. The two of them stood there for a few minutes, just locked up in their shared moment - grinning at each other like the pair of psycho-maniacs that they were. Eventually, J stirred into motion, drifting towards her a little, swaying side to side like a demented snake. A guttural, jaguar-type sound erupted from the based of his throat; sending the darkest shivers down Harley's spine.

"Mmm, kiddo... you and I are gonna get along just _fine_..."

All Harley could do was nod. Everything was stirring inside her. It was like she was _recognising_ him...

Joker retrieved the scissors once more and made his way around the desk (with a _haunting_ swagger) to set her free from her bindings. He only got halfway through with the act, however, because the door to the office flew open to hit the floor with a sickening crash. This obviously was not on the schedule or part of the plan, at least in Joker's books (did he even have a plan?), because the facets of shock in his otherwise excitable expression was extremely similar to that displayed on Harley's. A monstrous, towering goon of abnormal height and weight lumbered his insane path towards them. Joker shuffled round to face him, arms spread out either side as a challenge,

" _Look at this guy!_ What's the deal, bonzo alphonzo?"

The goon said nothing, only roared. His eyes were crazy dilated, Harley noticed upon squinting, and there were traces of some sort of white powder left around his mouth and nose. Harley whined like a child who had just had her favourite toy taken away from her while she was in the midst of playing with it, and had been about to speak up and confront him when she was almost caught off guard by his gigantic right arm and fist flying towards her in a lumbering, direct crash course. She dodged, lithe and efficient, and sprung away to the wall to her left - from this vantage point, she bounced off the wall when she met it and rebounded through the power in her feet to shoot directly towards the man. With a loud, high pitched _'woooooooh'_ \- Harley wrapped her legs first around the goon's gigantic waist, feet barely meeting in the middle of his torso - and _bearing in mind_ she only had one hand and arm free - somehow managed to climb her way the rest of the way up his mountain of a body to wrap her killer thighs around his neck. Immediately, she squeezed and applied the pressure to begin the process of choking him. She thought she might get some help from The Joker, but the clown was being _just that_ \- laughing his head off, clapping and cheering her on. As the goon spun to try and dislodge the psycho gymnast on his back, Harley caught sight of J perched on the edge of Sharp's desk; every inch screaming royalty. Harley huffed, blowing her hair out of her face. The goon spun again, and Harley realised that he was aiming for the wall. There was no way that could be allowed to happen. With a split second to decide what to do, Harley swung herself upwards and threw her free arm over her attacker's eyes to obscure his vision. With a shrill, hyena inspired cackle, she threw the weight of her body towards the opposite wall - aiming for Sharp's exercise equipment. There were a good couple of metal bars involved with it that she could use to her advantage.

_"ROOOOOOUND MATCH AND SET! ONE POINT- NO, TWO POINTS TO **HAAAAARLEY QUINN!"**_

Harley rolled her eyes and grunted with the effort of steering the neanderthal. The rasps and gasps, splutters and wheezes leaving him as he staggered the way she wanted him to, let her know that he was still choking - which was good _now_ , but if Harley let it up for even a split second, it would mean trouble for her later. She needed to _focus_. All the _pills_ the Asylum had been shoving down her throat should have made it easier, but Joker was doing his best to make it _hard_ for her to do so. Harley had spent far too long cooped up in a cell to escape it now, only to be crushed by a coked up, obese mad man. Something that had always got Harley far, along with her skills, had been her sheer determination. A tough childhood meant she was put together like a _suit of armour_ , her earlier description of herself as a _'fucking hurricane'_ had been entirely apt. The girl twirled about with her legs secured like a vice around her assailant's neck.

 _"QUINNQUINNQUINNQUINNQUINNQUINN!"_ Joker cheered from his own personal front row seat.

It took a lot of upper _and_ lower body strength, but Harley managed to get them where she wanted them. With a harsh yank, she threw herself backwards, making sure she still had the hold on his neck as she rocketed the both of them to the ground. The unnamed goon had been too distracted with simultaneously trying to see and shake her off, and was therefore unable to balance himself. With only a sliver of a fraction of a second to do so; Harley put all that was remaining of her strength into pulling herself upwards and avoid being crushed by him when they hit the ground. Even so, this success didn't mean Harley was in the clear - there was still the impossible task of _ending what she'd started_. If only she could anchor herself with something-

_The bars. Good ol' Quincy's vanity had just saved her life._

Harley wriggled and struggled and stretched with her free arm. Angled the way that she was now, at the head of the goon with her legs wrapped around his neck, she could see his dark skin going a deep, odd red colour. She could still pull this off. There was hope and Harley had the determination and the talent and the strength, and she would have had the _backup_ if Joker was willing - but quite honestly, she was perfectly capable of doing without. A few more agonising minutes into the struggle and Harley had actually managed to touch upon one of the cool metal bars with a fingertip. _So close, Quinnie. You're so close._

In times like these Harley longed for the voices.

Harley's hand shook as it grasped at the bars, her impressive legs were shaking with the effort of simultaneously choking and keeping the guy down. She put all her upper body strength into dragging the both of them towards the grisly destination. _Not long now. Moments left. COME ON, QUINNIE._ Had that last part actually been in her head or had The Joker shouted it?

Her palm collided once with the bar. _One._

Her entire hand wrapped around the bar and then slipped away. _Two._

She dragged them both the final stretch and secured her free hand in a watertight grip around the pole. _Three._

Harley screamed out her warrior cry as she anchored herself to the cool metal above - she took but one breath in to ready herself, and then, in one, _terrifyingly_ snake-like, swift motion - Harley's body from the waist down _struck_ and turned with a brutal efficiency that would have made an assassin weep. It took everything she had, but the giant's neck snapped, and he immediately gave up the struggle and went limp. Harley rolled herself out from under him and then away, panting and tugging at her hair to get it away from where it clung to her sweaty face. A light tremble came over her legs when she got back to her feet, but she didn't even notice, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins being more than enough to sustain her and keep her distracted. For the sake of being mad and vindictive, she delivered a swift, harsh kick to the goon's corpse - and stuck her tongue out at him for good measure, arm free from the straitjacket extended out in front of her with her thumb turned straight towards the floor. As she turned, she was met by a very smug looking clown. She grinned right back at him, still a little giddy and entirely off her rocker (and these were the days the medication was meant to keep her _sane_ ). Harley stuck out her hip and leaned into it, taking up a playful stance. She twirled her hair around one of the fingers connected to the hand that was free from the straitjacket, and bit down on her lower lip.

"Whatcha think of _that_ , Mistah J?"

Joker kissed at his fingers like he was a mafia boss who'd just had a sublime meal in an Italian restaurant, _"Poetry,"_ he complimented.

Harley's happy stare dropped from his soul sucking eyes to his lips to his perfect, white teeth. Man sure had a _smile_ on him. No wonder he was so proud of it.

"So, what's ya plan now and what do you need little ol' _me_ for?"

"You ever heard of a chain reaction, Harley Quinn?"

"Like a Domino Effect?"

"Yes!" Joker clapped once and pointed to her, " _Exactly_ like a _Domino Effect_. You see, my little bucket o'sparks, there's a system I've got goin' around here."

Harley nodded competently. She was already aware of this. Every other staff member and his son worked for Joker. It was well known but never discussed.

Satisfied, that he had her full attention, Joker continued: "And you know what happens to a system when some _fuckwit_ halfway up the line decides he's too _good_ for it?!"

"The system's fucked."

"Exactly, Harley. _Exactly_. The system is..." he pushed his hands out either side of him, closed his eyes and let out a puff of air, _"fucked."_

"So we gotta fix the system?"

Joker's eyes opened once more to fix directly on her with an intent that was so scary to her because it was so unknown, "Why, Harley Quinn, you sure are a..." he paused, gesticulating with his hands as he looked for the word he wished to use, "... _a prize_." He looked suddenly different, like he was longing for something - like he was hungry and earnest for it. Harley had almost come to expect the changes by now. She wasn't sure if she was just good at noticing them, or if The Joker read like a book, but they were alarmingly apparent to her everytime they occurred.

"I dunno, boss..." Harley continued as if the compliment hadn't even been delivered, no matter how flustered and red at the cheeks it made her, "I just don't think this is gonna be a lotta _fun_ , you know?"

"Oh, dollface, I'll give you _all the fun_ you're looking for..." he growled, something about him now was so incredibly predatory and sensual. Harley was pretty sure her heart skipped an entire beat. She struggled to find her voice, licking at her lips in an effort to get herself functioning normally again. This didn't help the situation - Joker's eyes snapped down to lock onto her lips like a laser - gaze touching on dark and hungry again.

Harley faltered but braved it and stomped forward to snatch up the scissors and free herself completely from the straitjacket. The moment her upper body was free she stretched and slipped into one of her odd, contorted positions. J made an odd noise, but she elected to ignore it. _Don't mix business with pleasure, kid._

"So, the system," Joker picked the conversation up from where they'd left it, crouching down beside her as she stretched to speak to her, "it's fucked. And what do we do to a ruined system?"

"We... destroy it?"

"No, Harley - and as _tempting_ as taking barrels of dynamite to the problem is... I'm losin' money. Dynamite's loud and it goes _boom_ and the people look so _pretty_ when they blow up, but dynamite, see, Harley... dynamite doesn't stop my bank account from hemorrhaging all over Gotham City. _Capeche?"_

"Yuhuh."

"I gots me a _plan_ , Harley Quinn. I gots a plan and it's a gonna be a long, long, long, _long_ runnin' affair, but if you take your righteous part... you'll get your just rewards..." The nasty smile was back. The one that promised everything and nothing and heaven and hell all at once with no escape from any or either and no turning back.

"Keep talkin'..."

Joker's snarly grin somehow widened further and he leaned in closer, fingers splayed and pressed together at the tips like a villainous cliche, "I need a _reliable gal_ on the inside. D'you think you could be that gal, Harley Quinn?"

Harley was breathless with how eager she suddenly was to please him, _"Yes."_ She spoke without hesitation or any trace of a second thought. It felt a little like he'd cast a spell on her. He looked like he was caught up in one. An enchanted shark.

Joker held out his hand.

Harley took it.

 

**[ 1 WEEK LATER ]**

 

Harley blinked at herself in the mirror.

How did something like this _happen_ to a gal? You meet a fella, sure, he seems nice - you survive being attacked by a friend of his, and suddenly you're dressed up as a psychiatrist in the very asylum you've been serving your sentence in for the past year or so.

It sounded about as insane as Harley was, but it was the truth of the matter. Harley was dressed up as someone she wasn't. It was the _oddest_ thing - she could see her eyes and her lips and recognise the familiar shade of her skin tone, and she could even verify that the body as well as the hair on her head belonged to her - but in the same sense... it didn't. Harley came to the conclusion that it was simply all _arranged_ wrong. What kind of a _tight-ass_ wore their hair up like this? She _despised_ the long white coat on principle, too. It was too close to the colour of the walls to her cell. It was all so _clinical_ , anyways.

She peered out from behind the door to her office. People passed by without glancing at her twice. Joker had replaced all the necessary people and wiped all her files (apart from his own personal copy that he kept _blah blah blah blah_ ) and had even had her confirmed in the system as a registered, licensed doctor. It had taken them a solid _twenty minutes_ to come up with a name she could go by. Joker was such a big fan of the name she already had that he didn't want to stray too far from it. Eventually, Harley just confessed her real name to him. It had taken her a while to remember it, too, so she was adamant that he appreciated the effort.

Harley played absently with the little badge on her coat that read _Dr. Harleen Quinzel_.

Unfortunately, the moment she rounded the next corner, she bumped into Quincy Sharp himself. He went through the standard rigmarole of apologising for a bit, and then stopped short and just stared at her,

"How long have you been working here for, again?"

Harley just about lost it inside her mind and rocketed off the walls. On the outside, however, a charming little smile took up precedence on her _pretty little mouth_. Harley was well practised in that art of pretending to be sane. The lies fell from her like water from a mountainside.

"Today's my first day here, boss. I've flown in from New York to take on The Joker's case."

Quincy blinked at her, seemingly astonished that she knew how to _speak_. Evidently, the information she'd given him was something he reckoned he should have known, because he immediately fumbled about with the act of knowing exactly what she was talking about.

"Oh, Doctor... uh..." he squinted at her name badge as subtly as he could, "Quinzel! Of course! Glad to have you with us. Do you, uh, start your sessions with him today?"

Harley decided to wing it.

"There's supposed to be a session at eleven thirty, but the schedule's messing around, so..."

"... Oh, no worries, Miss Quinzel. I'll set everything up for you myself. Technology's so unreliable anyways, so... uh... good job, and all that. I hope it goes well."

Quincy Sharp turned and walked away from the inmate parading around as a doctor without once questioning where he recognised her from. Harley clenched her fists at her sides - it _pissed her off_. How did the fat old fool not _recognise_ her? Was she that easy to forget? A blip on the radar? A _nothing?_

Harley huffed and turned, with a sharp swing of her ponytail, and stalked off in a random direction. It didn't matter where it took her; as long as it looked dramatic.

This was all part of the _plan_ , she reminded herself. It was easier to get a grip on calming herself down once her thoughts drifted to The Joker. _The Joker_. What a _man_. A man Harley knew she would follow wherever he wanted to go - and if he were to point, she would go there, obediently, she knew - because the man was a _magnet_. He was like a divine _black hole_ , and Harley _danced_ towards her doom. _A hop, a skip, and a jump until the end of the world, Sally._


	3. Chapter 3: Playing The Part

**[ H ]**

Harley tugged at her skirt, the urge to modify her entire outfit to suit her better was almost so palpapable that it _itched_ at her skin. The clothes were confining and all too reminiscent of a straitjacket. A twitch went off in Harley's jaw and a bead of sweat rolled it's merry way down her forehead. The _glasses_ one of Joker's men had handed to her in the moments before she'd been left alone in her office had no strength to them at all - the lenses were artificial and pointless. She was glad to have them, though. It gave something more to her disguise that Harley felt she was sorely in need of. Her theory was that if she was confident enough in her costume; she could properly act the part. Joker _needed_ her to play the part... for the _system_. The system, the system, the system. Do it for the sake of the system. That's all he's asking.

She scooped up her patient files from the desk - a random amassing of articles and notes and documents she'd never seen nor touched upon before. Everything was set up and ready to go - she just needed to _go_ and see the man himself. Harley was still mostly unsure of what it was exactly that she was meant to be doing with her undercover position. 11:30 took it's time to come around, and when it eventually did, Harley was already sure that she would be late. There was nothing to indicate to her where exactly it was she was supposed to go. Harley had been given a room number and a time, but there were _floors_ and wards and everything...

Eventually, Harley swallowed her pride and asked for directions. By the time she got there, Joker was already in the room - cuffed to the table. He'd been spared the straitjacket - something which was explained by the number of guards accompanying him. Harley was briefed by one of them about protocol - he called her _Harleen_ or _Doctor Quinzel_ \- and she had to stand there and pretend she wasn't desperate to bash his head in against the security door next to them. Eventually, though... _eventually_... they let her in to see him.

"Oh, _boys_..." Joker whistled and _grinned_ at her, "they've really gone all out for me this time..." he _growled_ his approval, head swaying as a way to get out some of the energy he had building up inside of him at all times. Or perhaps it was the snake mindset he seemed to live and revel in. Harley couldn't tell. She couldn't _care_ for the answer as long as she could bask in the question.

Her first instinct was to start with _'hiya, mistah j - how's it hangin?' -_ but of course, Harley was not supposed to _be_ Harley just then - she was operating under the pretense of _Harleen_ , and Harley was a professional. She gave herself a moment to phrase her greeting in her head by pushing her useless glasses back up her nose.

"My name is Doctor Quinzel and I'm taking over your case, for the foreseeable future or until you're cured. I understand you've been through a few doctors before me, and I hope you and I can get along and trust each other and work together to get you out of here. Do you have any questions for me?"

Joker's hairless eyebrows were raised to indicate he was pleasantly surprised with how good she was at playing her part. So surprised, in fact, that it took him a moment to respond. His usual, fast and smooth way of keeping up with conversation came to a standstill - a spanner thrown in the works - and he licked at his lips and bared his teeth at her.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk, Doc- _toooor?"_

Harley nodded to the guards to indicate she should be fine - they had J cuffed to the goddamn table, after all. She waited for them to leave, struggling to maintain her composure for that long. She was _desperate_ to respond to the riddle. _Oh, how she adored a riddle. Not **Riddler** , though. That guy was... sleaze and embarrassment on spindly, useless legs. _The door buzzed as it closed, and then the locks sounded... and then they were _alone_. Harley let out the delighted little laugh she'd had bottled up in agony, dancing her way over to the desk. She arrived to it with a grandiose spin and slammed her hands down on it as loud as she dared to, with an excitable exclamation of:

_"Because it can produce a few notes, though they are very flat! HAH!"_

Joker responded in keen ecstasy, eyes wide and grin all encompassing. The moment the guards had left the room, he too had shifted in demeanor. Now he was wild, uncapped and excited. They fed off each other's madness and general energy and played their games as far as they wished to. Upon hearing the riddle delivered to him, he let out a draining, raspy laugh - allowing his head (and whole upper half of his body, really) to sway from side to side like an erratic dashboard decoration. His head drifted as he did this, falling about in a different tandem to the rest of him. Harley gave a little applause, dropping dramatically down into her seat now. Immediately, she slid the pointless pair of glasses from her face and chucked them across the room... and let her hair down. She shook her head about like a wet dog, as she _always_ did and only stopped when she could no longer feel the painful strains having her hair tied up the way she had out of her scalp. When she brought her attention back to Joker, she exhaled a playful little gasp at his expression. His face was angled downwards now, eyebrows set and eyes dark with something Harley probably could have identified if she were _actually a Doctor. Hah!_ The thing that caught her attention the most though, were the slackened curve of his lips, parted over his perfect teeth. A low, demented sound was reverberating through his throat, filling the distance between them. Finally, to finish off the reaction, he moaned - very softly, which was surprising coming from him, and shot her another one of those... _charming_ smiles he could switch on and off like a light switch. Harley leaned across the table a little, clicking her tongue very quietly to replicate the sound of her chewing bubblegum. She wanted to twist it round her finger and blow bubbles with it, and...

Harley whined, pouting like the schoolgirl her mind sometimes told her she was. Joker's response to this sudden development was so _telling_. His smile dropped to an indulgent pout of his own, reflecting Harley's mood.

"Oh, pooh. Who had a crack at your _smile_ , Harley Quinn?" He growled, tone contradicting his nurturing position across from her. Harley sighed as dramatically as she could manage and kept up the wounded lolita act,

"You know, J... I just really, _really_ want some gum. I ain't got any and I don't have no money on me 'til the big boss pays up, so... what am I gonna _do_ 'til then, Mistah J? I tried chewin' on my own _tongue_ before, sugar, but it just ain't got that _flavour_ , y'know?" Harley sighed like a charity case kid who wasn't _asking for much_ for Christmas, "I just _really_ want some bubblegum."

Joker actually _cooed_ , delicious tongue darting out to wet his painted lips. _How did he even still have lipstick?_ He snaked his way closer to Harley across the table - as far as the restraints would allow anyway and cocked his head in a turn that was at least 90 degrees at her,

"The heartless mass _refuses_ to care for a _poor, homeless birdie!_ Hardly a shocking twist but one the likes of Vicki Vale wouldn't report on..." Joker inhaled sharply, suddenly, not quite catching her off guard with it, "... tell you what, kid. Be a _good girl_ and _play ya part_ and you can have aaaaanything your little birdie heart desires!"

Harley grinned victoriously, the smugness rolling off of her in waves. _He was gonna take care of her if she did her job right._

"I got a riddle for ya," she indulged, ass completely off the chair now as she leaned in further. Harley coughed, appreciating the theatrics of a good delivery as much as he did, and posed her riddle: "What can you not taste until you undress?"

Joker moaned once more, eyes darkening, and at the same time he dropped his shoulders a little - almost glaring at her he was so focused on her. He thought long and hard about it, moving only to crack his neck and roll his head about. Even so, once he'd brought his eyes back they never left her. He took his time to think it over - properly going through options and answers in his mind. Harley, finding it hard to stay as still as he did, danced her torso about a little, elbows balanced on the table to keep her up. Her lips were poised in an eager smile so fixed in place and impossible to keep hidden that she wondered if she was doomed ( _loose, metaphorical term_ ) to be stuck that way forever.

 _"FREEDOM,"_ Joker answered out of nowhere, snapping out of his reverie so suddenly that it caused Harley to jump in her seat, sending shivers down her ever moving spine and a coy, girlish laugh to leave her.

"Nope!" Harley sung, and Joker's eyes (which he had closed as he swayed about after his answer to the riddle, evidently in a state of bliss at the thought of _freedom_ ) snapped open, his mouth curling downwards unpleasantly. Harley pouted to mirror his displeasure, "It's a banana!"

Joker's unkind grimace transformed into a dark, charismatic grin of pleasure. He even looked a little surprised, his estimation of her changing with every twist and turn their session took. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head drop back, swaying once again in that way he liked; and _laughed_. It wasn't a brief _chuckle,_ either. This was a full on, insane, humour induced laugh. Harley shifted about proudly, pearly whites indenting on her lower lip as she absorbed the sight of him. _Oh, he was **glorious**._

 _"_ Now _, 'Harleen'_... back to _business_."

Harley nodded, retreating back into her seat. She glanced at the clock on the wall - they only had fifteen minutes left. She resisted the urge to pout. _Business_.

"You want me to _spy_ , right?"

"I want you to _hear things_ and I want you to _see things_. You've got yourself three other patients assigned to you. Miller, Tetch and Grace. I need ya to get as much from them as you can." He paused in his rambling to eye her, eyes narrowed a little, "You listening, Harl?"

"As long as I'm not deaf or dead, boss... I'm _always_ listenin'."

Joker liked this. It earned her a laugh.

"Kitten, kitten, kitten..."

Harley mewled.

"You're such a _good girl_. This is gonna be _fun_ , kid. I can tell already." The devilish grin was back.

"So these _sessions_..."

Joker cocked his head at her. She continued.

"Are these for feedback? Can we play, too?"

_"I never stop playing, Harley-girl."_

A delightable shudder coursed through her and she let slip another girlish laugh, utterly over the moon.

"Well, that's... _good_ , you know. I ain't got nobody to play with out there. They all wear _monkey suits_ and not the flashy kind, neither. The _boring_ kind."

"Sheep in sheep's clothing," he agreed through the means of a growl. His reaction indicated his dislike for the masses. Harley couldn't help but share the sentiment.

She sighed breezily, cheek propped up on her fist, elbow holding both up on the table. There was _something about him_ that spoke to her in a way that made her want to act out. It was verging on irresistable, actually. It was like he _was the darkness_ , and that was so _insanely_ attractive to her. Harley didn't often feel attraction beyond sexual desire, but _this_... was... _it._ She bit down on her finger, staring at him for a moment longer to try and commit his appearance to her battered memory. A glance at the old clock on the darkened wall revealed to her that it was almost the end of the session, so she got up and retrieved the glasses, and tied her hair up again. A _looser_ do, this time.

They spoke over the smaller details of her assignment, and then the time was up. The door buzzed and both Joker and Harley shifted back into their alternate demeanors. Their _disguises_. Harley straightened up in her chair, assuming a more professional stance - fingers intertwined, hands resting on the table in front of her. Joker drew himself back and away from the table, grinning at his guards. He definitely had the easier part to play. _She_ was the one having to act like something and someone she _could have been_.

_Could never be, now._

"Goodbye, Doc! Boy, is this one a _charmer_. You see it, Krill? No? Are you _blind?"_ Joker reared towards the man, swiping at him now that his hands had been freed from the table cuffs, evidently trying to blind the man, as he'd said. Krill dodged and swerved about, desperately trying to avoid Joker's lunacy while his co-workers struggled with placing the new pair of cuffs on their charge. Eventually they managed it, and spared Harley a few awkward, embarrassed nods as they escorted J out of the room. The clown himself shot her a _dirty_ , knowing grin.

And then he was gone.

Harley let out a humongous breath, slumping against the table. It had been utter _torture_ to hold in the maniacal laughter she'd had bubbling up inside of her - to maintain her _professional facade_. The only guard left, the one who had come along to help her find the room in the first place, and had stuck around to guard her, had entered the room without her knowing, and approached her. It was evident he mistook her collapse against the desk as a byproduct of her first meeting with The Joker. _Boy, was he wrong. She was almost **expiring** from all the sexual tension._

"You doin' alright, Doctor Q?"

Harley sighed, glad he hadn't gone through with the entirety of her last name. She nodded, gathering herself up from the table as sanely as she could muster, and worked on shooting him a smile which was simultaneously charming while not _overly_ charming. Didn't want him getting any ideas, didn't want him to catch on to her mental state.

"I'm fine, Charlie. Thank you. He's _just_..."

She was at a loss for words. Charlie nodded sagely, and offered a hand to help her up with. She took it and pulled herself up, with his help, to her feet. She brushed down her clinical white coat and adjusted her glasses, before following Charlie out into the hallway. The door buzzed behind them. Harley bristled angrily, caught off guard by Charlie patting at her back. _Who gave him the **right**_ **-**

Harley composed herself, and offered him a shaky smile before she parted ways with him and headed back to the office which also served as her home. Joker had informed her during the session that her new apartment would be ready by next week. Harley stopped in the middle of the corridor to stretch - not the way she wanted to, mind. In the way she _hated_. It was limited and not _enough_ , but it was something to de-stress her a little and so it would have to _be enough_. Once she was done, she continued on to her office and hung about there for a little - not sure what she was supposed to do now. She longed to bounce around and flip and _spring and dance, and-_

No. She couldn't. No sane doctor did that.

Harley sighed, deflating into her desk chair. A little ping sounded from the computer and she tossed her head towards it petulantly. She had another appointment in ten minutes, with a patient, of course.

 _Tetch, Jarvis._ Harley frowned. She knew him. She'd had dealing with him in the past. He'd always had a soft spot for her - a _liking_ for her, because she was blonde and looked like _'Alice'_ from Alice in Wonderland. Harley let out a load, whiny groan, and kicked her feet up, landing them on the desk. Jarvis Tetch could stand to _wait_ a little while. Harley was... no. Harley _couldn't_ , because Harley was supposed to be a _good girl_ for Joker and Harley needed to do her job and play her part in order to earn her bubble gum based rewards. With a childish huff, Harley sprung from the desk (allowing herself a little treat in doing so while she was alone) and managed to find Charlie.

 _This_ session room held no allure for Harley. It was clear _why,_ too. _He_ wasn't on the other side of this door. _He_ wouldn't be waiting for her within - strapped to the table. Instead she would have to see Jarvis Tetch, and he would no doubt do something to blow her cover - or at least he would _try to_. Harley wouldn't let him, of course. She was good at getting herself out of tricky situations. Even if _she_ couldn't, she was sure Joker would find a way to keep her where he wanted her. Harley held her breath and once again took all of the dwindling self control she had, and put it into being _Harleen_.

"Good afternoon, Mr Tetch. My name is-"

 _"HARLEY!"_ Jarvis bucked forward, struggling with his restraints. Harley _froze._ The guards all turned to look at her, disbelief and slight alarm colouring their features. How was she supposed to get herself out of this? She couldn't even try to _convince Tetch to help her out because the guards were all staring right at her._ She licked her lips nervously and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Harley opened her mouth to speak, to try and find some sort of feasible explanation for why Jarvis Tetch, _The Mad Hatter_ , knew her.

"Uh-"

"Joker told me all about _you_ in the cafeteria..." Tetch cut in, beady eyes travelling over the guards and then back to Harley in short ventures. Harley's breath caught and then _eased_ out. _Phew._ Tetch was on her side.

The guards seemed to accept this, as they all turned to filter out of the room the moment Harleen nodded to them. Settling down at the table, Harley made a big show of shuffling her papers until the door buzzed to indicate the last of the guards had left the room. The door clicked and Harley unwinded, letting out a deeply relieved, shuddering breath.

"Alice, Alice, Alice... you never can stay out of trouble for _long,_ can you, dear?"

"I'm not your Alice, Jarv."

"It's _Hatter. Hatter, Alice. **Hatter**._ "

"Fine, fine. You got it. _Hatter._ "

"I didn't believe Joker when he said he'd found you, but... ah, _Alice_... here you are!"

"Speakin' of Joker... he wants somethin' from ya, and he sent _me_ to find it out. You gonna help me out, Tetchy?"

" _HATTER. IT'S HATTER."_

"Sorry, sorry. Hatter."

"I already helped you out, Alice. The Queen of Hearts won't be so hard to evade _next time_..."

"Alright, so at least you're familiar with a deck of cards, so I got _somethin'_ to work with..."

_"Cards."_

" _Yes._ Look, we got The _Queen_ , right? You know The Queen. Then there's her King, The Jack... there's Ace, all the suits... and _then_... there's _The Joker_."

Hatter was completely enraptured, hanging onto every word. His beady little eyes trained on her in a way that would have bothered Harley if she were still sane.

"The Joker."

" _The Joker._ Your friend, remember? You were just talkin' about him."

"You're right, Alice. You're always right."

"He _wants_ to _know somethin'_. Are you gonna tell me if I ask you?"

There was no response. Jarvis blinked at her rather owlishly - Harley had a theory cooking that this was all too much. She fidgeted about in irritation and tried a different angle.

"Oh, Mr Hatter... I really am rather lost. You see, I took a turn by the crossroads and that _wretched Cheshire Cat_ simply will not assist me. Could you be of help, sir? I feel rather unlike myself."

Tetch looked as if he were caught up in some wonderful, lucid dream. He _smiled_ , suddenly the epitome of disturbing charm.

"Oh, dear, dear, Alice. I'll _always help you_..."

Harley resisted the overwhelming urge to cringe away.

"Please, Mr Hatter, please answer me this-"

But the door buzzed. _Time was up_. _No! No, no, no, no, no-_

Harley _growled_ under her breath, fists clenched on the table - her hands visibly trembling. She had been _right on the cusp_ of getting the answers for her Joker. How had she come so _close_ only to lose the answers to the asylum's protocol? She ground her teeth. Hatter looked _far_ more perturbed by the prospect of their parting, however. He snarled very openly at the guards as they joined them in the room, rocketing himself about in his seat so harshly that Harley was sure she'd heard the _crack_ of him dislocating his shoulder. He was yelling and protesting so loudly that she couldn't differentiate the shouts of madness from any shouts of pain. Regardless, she watched him go, irritated. On her way out, she snapped at Charlie. _It was his fault. He'd invaded her space again. He'd **touched** her without permission._

Harley hoped the walls to her office were sound proof, or at least thick in structure. When she was alone again inside, she let out an animalistic _shriek_ of fury and pushed everything off the desk with one big _push_ and a loud _crash_. She kicked at things and brought her pen out of her pocket to use as a _knife_ , stabbing at random things. It was an instinctual thing at this point. Harley had gone too long without killing. She didn't like to _fail_ , either. It made her murderous, and now that she had _Mistah J_ to impress...

Failing him wasn't an option.

Harley would do better, next time.

**Author's Note : Another shoutout to my girlfriend for this chapter. Harley's riddle was her own creation and just in general, that girl is my muse. I love her. Don't forget to check out her fanfic - Madness of Two: An Autobiography.**


	4. Chapter 4: Grace, Miller & Tetch.

**[ J ]**

Pacing. Joker was a man who did a lot of pacing. A clown was a clown because he had that natural, _boundless_ energy. People flocked to see the spectacle he'd provide - like dumb sheep to a massacre in the disguise of a treat. J couldn't really ask for _more_ , but he would. He had his captive audience - he always had that, thanks to the always-come-back-for-more attitude all residents of Gotham seemed to have instilled into them at an early age. He had his arch nemesis and _favourite joke_ in the form of Batman. He had money, he had power, he had obedient goons and he even had a perfect _smile_. What more could the Joker _want_ , he'd heard Vicki Vale squawk at a camera before. _Well, Vicks... **everything**._

With the supreme help of Harley Quinn... that would be even easier to get within his grasp.

"What a... _treat_." He muttered to the space between himself and the cell wall. After orchestrating the last break out, Joker had been placed in solitary confinement to _think about what he'd done_. But what _had_ he done, in true reality? Nothing. Sure, he'd gotten a couple... hundred guards and inmates killed, but he hadn't been the one actually _stabbing them_ , had he? No. He had been prancing around with a saucy little acrobat. In fact, between the two of them... Harley had been the one to kill. _And a glorious killing it had been, too_. Capable thighs curled around a fat neck like a lion's jaw clamping down on a particularly chubby gazelle. She'd flipped about and done some twisty... things, and _wHEN THE BONES IN HIS NECK HAD SNAPPED! OH! IT WAS BEYOND DESCRIPTION!_

Joker ignored the order from outside that he calm down. _Calm down? Who? He?_

Oh, honey. A thing like that just isn't _possible_ anymore.

Even so, he put a finger to his lips and folded his arms together over his chest, taking a cross legged position on the floor. It was the way kiddies sat at pre-school when they were trying to kiss ass and add to their sticker collection. Nobody was around to _appreciate_ this, but Joker didn't need them to be. He carried around a rapturous audience inside his own head at all times. What he _really_ needed was not any old individual to laugh at his jokes, but a confidant who could _joke along with him_. Like Harley with her riddles.

Harley. Riddles. _Bananas._

Joker relaxed into a foetal position, rocking to and fro with a ridiculous, side splitting grin plastered to his face at the unexpected memory of his first session with _Harley Quinn_. That girl was a _miracle_ on dry land. A badger among the bushes. A torpedo among bullets. A... _harlequin_ amidst a crowd of _amateurs_.

_Yes. She was **perfect**._

For what... J didn't know. A lotta things. Everything. Nothing. _Something_. Initially it had just been the role he'd needed her to play for his... _perfect game_.

BUT NOW? NOW IT WAS, UH... _CRUNCH TIME_. NOW WAS-

Joker jerked out of his position on the floor and scrambled towards the door to grab at the hand that had just deposited his food through the gap in the door (the one that only opened from the other side). He managed to get a hold on it and yanked at the arm as _savagely_ as he could - until he heard a _beautiful crack_ and the symphony of screams that followed. He _basked_ in it.

_Oh, glory be._

**[ H ]**

Harley was a lot more prepared the next week. Things passed in an unimportant blur when she didn't get to see Mistah J, and her sessions with the other patients on her list were... _boring_. Grace actually thought Harley was there to _help her_. Harley had blown a raspberry at her during their first session and turned her thumb down. Grace wasn't so hopeful after that. Victoria Grace was one of those 'oh please help me I'm aware of my dwindling sanity and recognise I need help so please, please, please' types. _Blah, blah, blah_. _Ain't no helpin' **you** , sweetheart_, Harley had thought to herself again and again. It was true. Even from Harley's standpoint as a _fake_ doctor, she could tell that Victoria Grace was beyond help. Harley just knew these things. She had an... _intuition_ on the subject of crazies. From one loon to another, Harley knew when someone's sanity was _fucked_ beyond repair.

Nicholas Miller was different, though. This guy was clearly as sane as they get. He was _seeking_ asylum, and who was Harley to tell him to _kick the habit_? If the man wanted to waste away his days in this old hellhole, then he was free to do so. Harley _liked_ him, anyways. He was a real charmer - a flirt - he was _smooth_ and charismatic. He didn't catch her attention the way _Mistah J_ did, but Harley was a girl who enjoyed all the flattery and flirtation that life could offer... so she played along. Ain't no harm in it. What would she do instead? _Cure him?_ Harley errupted with hysterics at the thought.

Harley had _tactics_ for dealing with these whackos. She had methods for getting what Joker wanted from them. She'd jotted them down in her little notepad, along with all the doodles and the H + J lovehearts:

\- Grace - fake sympathy, pretend you want to help, guilt, manipulation, won't take much to break

\- Miller - play along, flirt, charm and conquer, pander to his ego, could be a long haul (stubborn ass)

\- Tetch - real tedious, play part of Alice, get Alice dialect right, roleplay, could take a long while (shut down)

She stared at the list now, legs kicked up and crossed over each other on the desk. She bit down on her pen (the ink free end) and frowned down at the paper. Grace would definitely be the easiest - she was like a whiny bag of frogs, and Harley would be the _snip snip_ to set all the frogs _free_. Miller would be more difficult, but Harley could charm _anybody_ into doing what she wanted - he _would_ co-operate. The hardest would be Tetch - his insanity and stubborn detachment from reality got in the way. An obstacle it was, but not an impassable one. Harley could still get what she needed from him.

Harley ate her lunch in her office and avoided the cafeteria at all costs - like it was _the plague_. In a sense, it was. She would be recognised there. She would be _compromised_. Harley could not go to the cafeteria. Instead, she nibbled on the ham and cheese sandwich she'd stolen from a co-worker. She'd walked past the woman an hour or two after the fact and heard her wondering aloud if she'd already eaten the sandwich or if she'd just forgotten to pack it. _Silly sausage_. _Harley-girl has ya sandwich._

A disturbed stream of giggles left her and she rocked back and forth on the multi-way desk chair, spinning around with a loud _"wheeeeeeeee!"_.

After she was finished with her lunch, she found herself with nothing to do. Harley was bored. Nothing good ever happened when Harley was _bored_. Well, nothing _good_ happened around Harley anyways, but the boredom was always a largely contributing factor to the mayhem. She had a free schedule all afternoon and it was _boring, boring, BORING!_

_HARLEY KNEW WHAT SHE COULD DO!_

A little trip down memory lane was in order, after all. Joker wouldn't _mind_ if she took a little time off to visit her old home. So she skipped her way down to the cells - walking as normally as she could manage whenever she encountered colleagues or found herself in the field of view of any cameras - Harley was well versed in the security/camera systems within the asylum. She had no trouble avoiding all the bad spots. _God, she hated the walls and the creepy crawly eyes that peppered them. Bleh. Squidgy eyes had a horrible texture to 'em._

A dainty, elongated little sigh left her as she trailed along by the bars, drifting her fingers against the cool, grimy metal. _Three... two... one. There it was._ Her cell was the only one with a teeny tiny little window in the upper corner, near the bed. Harley curled her fingers around the bars and let her head fall against them with a _clang_. She grit her teeth and ground them together, jaw ticking with the sudden rigid structure to it. She felt such _power_ now that she was on the other side of those _bars!_ Harley let out an appreciative little whine, keeping it as quiet as she could. It was ironic that while she was _in_ the cage she had the freedom to behave however she liked; but now that she was on the _outside_ she had to control herself and... _become a slave to her inhibitions._ Harley mewled from the back of her throat and a systematic roll fell pray to the hold of her head, an extremely satisfying _crack_ sounding out around her in the grey, _dim_ corridor of _nothing_. The irritating, grating clacking of heels echoed down on the linoleum in a steady rythm that grew closer and closer with every step. Harley worked as quick as she could to snatch herself out of her scathing reverie and appear _sane_ once again. A fake, cheery smile plastered itself all over her face as if on auto-pilot. The woman's face _was a study_ as she neared Harley. It was initially structured in a business-like, pleasant smile, but then it turned to an alarmed kind of confusion, mingled with the beginnings of suspicion - but then came a point where she stepped close enough to make Harley out clearly - at which point she displayed full blown, horrified recognition.

_"You're Harley Qui-!"_

Harley didn't let her finish the third word, darting across the space between them to clamp a hand down over her colleague's mouth and slam her back against the ugly, cold brick wall. She _grinned_ at the woman; endlessly grateful for the excuse to kill again.

"Thank you, sweetie," she hissed at her, and then - pausing for a second to ensure nobody was about to walk down the secluded corridor - Harley got a good grasp on her wiry, auburn hair, and with a violent wrench of the woman's neck, Harley yanked her head forward and then back against the wall. Harley _reveled_ in the _sounds_ her cranium made as it was smacked again and again against the dim grey of the stone. A steady stream of delightable, psychotic giggles slipped in a heady rush past her lips. _Finally, she was bringing colour and variety to these walls!_ The aesthetic of the crimson against the grey was enough to make her moan, too. She thought of Joker as she did it, heart skipping a beat over how _proud_ he would be. There was such _risk_ and _adrenaline_ and _excitement_ to what she was doing, as well, and it brought her to _life_. The way they were pressed up against the wall as they were, they were only _just_ out of sight of the nearest camera. If anybody would know how to escape the efforts of that particular camera it would be Harley. She'd spent hours upon weeks upon _months_ staring at that thing. Eventually she'd destroy it. When Joker no longer found this place to be of use, or they moved on to a different game... Harley would take extreme pleasure in _destroying_ that thing.

Harley took a moment, panting - chest heaving, hands twitching - to bask in the fix. She inhaled very deeply, the metallic sting the scent of the blood brought with it was pleasant; it tingled at her nostrils and lit a _fire_ in her belly. Eyes lighting up with the thrill, Harley put both hands to her mouth to stifle the giggles and jumped up and down. She limited her celebration to just that, though, and went ahead with disposing of the body. It was a tough thing to achieve but Harley being, well... _Harley_ ; she managed to get away with it. It had taken such a long time for Harley to be caught for a _reason_.

 _You're a mean one, Harley Quinn_.

Harley was completely at ease for the rest of the day - if anything she was _more_ relaxed - but it wasn't made to last. Nothing ever went off without a hitch in Gotham City. The sheer levels of criminal activity in the city had put police and security up to the max. Never had a place been the victim of such vigilance. Harley's mind was too here and there to consider things like _blood spatters on clothes_. Who had the _time_ to notice things like that?

Certainly not Harley Quinn.

She was heading towards the high security wing, the isolation chamber of which they held _her Joker_ in. It was the greatest of struggles to keep the skip out of her step. Even so, her stroll was bouncy and preppy. She was far too happy for her working environment.

"Harleen? Doctor Quinzel?" A raised, strained voice called out to her from someone behind her. Harley twirled as she spun to greet the person, hopped up on the anticipation of seeing J. Harley's smile was perhaps a little _too wide,_ because her superior, Doctor Shepherd, looked a little taken aback. He faltered backwards a little, taking that instinctual step away from what his subconscious told him was the danger.

"Need somethin', Sheps?" The overwhelming twinge of her accent took his surprise to the next level and he took another step back with it, blinking sporadically.

"I, just... why have you got blood on your coat?"

Harley blinked. Doctor Shepherd blinked back. She glanced down to her traditionally spotless, mindless coat - and found that it was indeed, splattered with blood.

"Aw, Doctor Sheps... I had one of my nosebleeds! Nasty little bastards can ruin an entire day, you know?"

"Please, Doctor Q - we have to maintain a good standard of behaviour for the inmates-"

"Oh, yeah. 'Course, Sheps. You got it, honey. I'll keep it PG."

Doctor Shepherd nodded rather thoughtfully, chewing down on his lower lip - his brow a little furrowed - and played uncomfortably with the lapel of his own coat. He seemed to be contemplating something for a moment, before he gave a hesitant nod and backed off to the point where he turned and walked away from her.

Immediately, Harley let out the breath she'd been holding and allowed her shoulders to finally drop.

She didn't unwind fully until she was face to face with Joker again - it was through the slat in his maximum security, isolation chamber door - but a meeting with her Joker was still a meeting with her Joker, and she found herself content enough with it to meet him with a blinding smile.

" _Oh,_ there she is!"

"How ya feelin' today, J? You feelin' good? _I'm feelin' good_ , boss! I gotta tell ya - I am feelin' _good_."

"That so, Harley Quinn? What's, uh... got you feelin' a _certain kinda way?_ Hmm?"

Harley leaned closer, confident in doing so now that they'd been left alone, "I painted them boring old walls, sugar! You shoulda seen it, too! _Glorious_ , you'd say!"

Joker already had his face pressed up against the slot, but Harley's enthusiasm drew him nearer somehow, bringing them closer, "I'm guessin' a... _gorgeous_ dark red."

"Ooh, it's not there anymore but I can still _see it_. Oh, it's so beautiful, Mistah J."

"You little tease. You could drive a man _crazy_ with your particular... brand of _dirty talk_."

"Y'think so, Joker?"

"I practically _know so_ , kitten."

"Is all of this just foreplay to you?" Harley teased.

Joker let out an indescribable, guttural type moan and bashed his head against the door, "Come on, baby. That's no fair..."

"Bad guys don't _play fair_."

"That we don't. Speakin' of _which_ , Doctor Q - _pah-rogress report_ , if you would?"

Harley huffed, rolling her eyes and tossing her head in a miniscule gesture that spoke volumes of the petulance she was capable of. It irritated her to have to talk business all of a sudden, when she was having so much _fun_.

"Say you got a gingerbread house, sugar. Say you got yourself a nice, big gingerbread house. One o' them _classy_ ones, you know the type? One of the ones with everythin' _included_. So... you got ya house and you've put all the walls together and you've got all the little sweeties stuck everywhere, _just_ where you want 'em. You put 'em on there with that sugar stuff, and everytime you go to step back and admire the damn thing; one of the _walls falls down!"_

Harley ended her ramble on a psychotic, agitated screech. Jarvis Tetch was severely grating on her nerves. Everytime she'd get 98% of the way through, she'd come _so_ close to getting what she needed from him time and time again, but she'd fall short every single time. _Every time without fail_.

 _"Then nail the walls down, Harley! Have some imagination!"_ Joker growled at her. Harley sighed, tossing her ponytail about as she shook her head.

"Tetchy's just gonna take longer, boss. It's not a biggie. I'll try to wrangle some longer sessions..." she trailed off nervously, tapping at her chin - Joker didn't look too pleased _nor_ impressed - " _Oh! But!_ Things are goin' just _swell_ with the other two!"

"So you're _close_ to gettin' me what I need?" He asked testily, as if he needed the confirmation in order to adjust his feelings on the subject. Harley nodded along eagerly.

"I'm an anchor, right on the edge of plunging over for ya, boss. I'm on it. I _got_ it."

Joker eyed her suspiciously. She got the feeling he didn't know whether he should trust her or not.

"Tell ya what... I promise. Pinkie promise." Harley stuck out her pinkie finger for him to shake with his own, expression completely serious and business-like. Joker grabbed at her pinkie finger with his own like a hungry _snake_ , striking with swift efficiency and hungry need for contact. Harley liked to think _her_ contact was even more appealing. With a harsh, _strong_ yank; Joker tugged her towards the door - close enough for her to collide with it. He pressed his face as far up against the slit as he could,

"Harley, Harley, Harley... don't go making promises you don't fully _understand_. D'you know the terms of a pinkie promise? Let me tell ya, kid. Let me _tell you_ , Harley... it's risky business. You and me... we've just entered into an intricate exchange. Desire becomes surrender; surrender becomes _power_ , Harley Quinn. Remember that. Up there... in your... _noggin_. Hah! What am I saying? Your mind is as consistent as a Rubiks Cube! But the... _point_ is... what was the point, Harley? What was Daddy saying?"

"You were sayin' what a pinkie promise _really_ is, baby."

" _Ah_ , yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes... a pinkie promise allows the wronged party the right to... hmm... how does a gentleman phrase this to a lady?"

"Tell it to me straight, honey. I can take it."

"Aaaaaalrighty! If you fall through, I get to snap your neck!"

"Yikes, boss. A little medieval, dont'cha think?"

"All the best things are _medieval_ , Harley-girl. The guillotine, for example."

"The court jester, for another."

"A _woman_... after my own _heart_."

Harley could imagine him clutching all dramatically at his chest. She giggled at the image alone.

"I gots to get goin' now, Mistah J... things to do and all that."

"Mm, yup. Yuhuh, yep. Just... scooch on over here and plant a smacker on my cheek. I'm gonna need some... _encouragement_ if I'm gonna be holed up in this place for another week. Can you _imagine_ it, Harley-mine? A whole week! Me! I'm like a budgie in a tunnel in here! The horrors are unknown, I tell you..."

"I'm hearin' ya, J. You're preachin' to the choir."

"You always... _get me_ , Harley Quinn. I like that."

"Glad to be of service."

"Keep it evil enough out there for the two of us, dollface," he growled.


	5. Chapter 5: A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

**[ H ]**

Joker slammed his fist down on the table, levelling his gaze at her. This particular session had not been a good one. Harley had little progress to report with the information he needed her to gather from Grace, Miller and Tetch - and to top it all of, Joker's businesses were suffering while he was all locked away. Certain... entreprenuers in the area were taking creative liberties and playing around with _dangerous_ things like dynamite and bribes. Nothing they could come up with would be anywhere near as dangerous as the man they were dealing with, however, and Harley wondered how it was they didn't _recognise_ that. The boss man was in jail; he wasn't dead.

"Sugar-" Harley begun, simpering as she tried to appeal to the side of him she knew to be attracted to her spoiled brat act. Unfortunately, though, he was having none of it.

"Sugar, sugar, sugar. Such a popular product, that... white... powder. The people clamour for it, demanding it in masses..." he growled, rambling slightly, his eyes unfocused. It was clear to see he was plotting things as they spoke, searching for loopholes and ways to best his opposition. J cleared his throat, a tiny, animalistic, jerky shake of his head bringing him out of his head enough to focus on her (as far as he was capable of, anyway). Without provocation or warning, he leaned a little across the table and offered her a toothy grin - one of the darker ones, and his tone dropped in tandem, "I deal with a different kinda product, Harls. Same appearance. Same level of demand... same... effect on... mortality rates..."

"I know that, boss. You think I don't know that?"

" _Oh_ , Harley-girl... trust me, I'm well aware of your intellect. I know you know that I know that you know things, kittykat... but Daddy has a problem."

Harley let her leg bounce, folded over the other at the knee - nervously. This was never going to lead to anywhere... good. Don't get the girl wrong, Harley _enjoyed_ \- even thrived in a load of chaos and excitement and _danger_ , but... she knew a prime opportunity for Batman to catch her and send her right back to the hole in the hellhole she started off in - right back in the cell she'd been standing outside of only last week. Harley knew that when she saw it - the very moment the word 'problem' came tumbling out of his devilish, scarlet mouth. Harley usually appreciated any and all shapes and noises that mouth made, any opportunity to watch those lips was one she treasured, but...

Harley was his woman on the outside. All his goons would be known to Batman - not trusted enough to carry the goods, not crazy enough to be as reckless as she would be. Batman hadn't been the one to capture her when she'd finally been caught, and she'd never met the weirdo. Harley knew all this, and it all flashed before her eyes like a premonition before J had even given her the order.

"There's something you could do for me..." he trailed off, because she was nodding before he'd even gotten to what he needed her to do - his hairless eyebrows raised. " _Gusto_... I like that." His lips curled back to reveal those _teeth_.

"I'll be your Saint Bernard, Mistah J. Don't you wizz-wozz." Harley spoke in hushed tones, advanced a little over the table towards him, tone jokingly conspiratorial. Joker let out a prideful guffaw and clapped once, _loud_.

Joker didn't speak, didn't reward her with flattery - instead he dropped the joviality and moved exactly like the snake from _The Jungle Book_ \- halfway meeting her across the inconsequential table between them. Joker mouthed something at her that her scrambled brain couldn't figure out and snapped his teeth, throwing himself back in his chair to begin the raucous laughter, his head swaying from side to side in giddy delirium. Harley's grin dropped and, trembling, her lips curved downwards in an overly exaggerated motion - the only kind she could manage. Harley Quinn was the kind of psycho who did things in a _big_ way or no way at all.

And _that_ was how Harley found herself dressed like a common citizen of Gotham, an unusually heavy backpack strapped to her back. She was not happy with this. This was not _Harley Quinn_ \- this was _Harleen Quinzel_. Anyhow, it had been her Joker's mission for her, and she'd accepted it like all those heroes in the movies always did. Harley sighed, twirling at her hair. She'd reached up to play with the usual bunches, but found, boringly, that her hair was down in plaits and impossible to manipulate about. Harley stomped like a petulant child and kicked at the wall. She'd been dropped off in an alleyway. Pff. This was not the lifestyle she held as an ideal. Regardless of such blatant complaints, Harley was dedicated to her mission, and so she tugged at the oversized hoodie she was sporting and adjusted the straps to her new backpack. As far as she knew and had been told, her sole objective was to just walk through Gotham, from one of Joker's clubs to one belonging to a business partner's of his that was far enough away that Joker felt he couldn't risk sending his goons out in a car. He needed someone to go incognito - someone at least Batman wasn't familiar with, and as it so happened - Harley-girl would be the one to execute such a plan. She had a vague idea of what she was carrying on her back. Coke. guns... doubtless something near priceless. She potentially had millions of dollars worth of weight on her back. Good thing her core was so strong.

It all went rather smoothly at first, nobody really gave her a second glance, and she strode as sanely as she could manage - resisting the urge to skip and dance and flip her way to her destination. It had been oh, so long since she had been truly _free_ \- from the confines of her cell - and yet, ironically, she was somehow more trapped in the way she was supposed to behave. _Society_. What a load of bullshit.

Eventually, though, the urge to express the stir crazy madness inside of her itched at her so poignantly that she _had_ to give in to it, and that was when she started to attract too much attention.

Harley strolled her way through the streets of Gotham at a leisurely pace she had never once in her life felt she could manage before now. She was nobody, at this moment in time. Before she was Harleen Quinzel, terrified of people seeing through the cracks in her psyche, at her twisted mind and the ways it thrived to reflect in her behaviours. Even after she'd found herself in Harley Quinn - her true self - she'd been forced to hide, to operate in shadows and act like a _caged bird_ all of the time; just like Joker had depicted. Now she was neither of them. She was _free_. For the briefest of seconds, Harley had perfect clarity. There was a taxi ahead. If she ran she could catch it, she could leave Gotham and-

_Don't be silly, Harley-kins. You know everything in this city belongs to him, and that includes you._

Harley paused to smack at her head, delivering a blindingly charming, faux smile to some startled passersby. It faded as soon as they'd passed. It was not real. Not for them.

Pushing herself back up into a skip, Harley clung to the straps of her backpack, turning her head occasionally, subtly, to glance into the shadows of the alleyways she passed - where she would see a familiar bunch of goons darting about to keep up with her. Harley grinned. _He was watching. He was always watching. Protecting her._

She felt this inexplicable, overbearing sense of pride swell up in her chest, and she began to whistle, only to be cut off by the sharp pain of something hard colliding roughly with her shin. She came to an immediate standstill, face contorted into serious outrage, all delight suddenly gone from her countenance. For once, Harley was _not_ playing around. She had precious cargo on board, and she intended to get it to it's destination without disturbance. Harley whipped around, narrowing her eyes, wishing she had a bat or _something_ to twirl around and focus her. She felt this compulsive need to multitask at all times - her mind moving far too fast for anything else, and so Harley began to click with her thumb and middle finger on her right hand, frantically, her eyes darting about efficiently. Another scurrying, closer this time, clearly that of an errant goon as it was too clumsy and heavy footed for anyone else, and then a harsh, rough whisper:

"Keep in character, Quinn! The Boss is countin' on it!"

Harley rolled her eyes uber aggressively, equalising the reprimand to that of a school teacher telling a child to write up against the margin. She brought her teeth together in a sharp snap at the unknown, unseen goon, and carried on her not-so-merry way.

Harley was almost at the meeting point when it happened.

A dark swoop in the night - like a bat, and that sound alone and the slight difference in shade against the night sky was all she needed to know who she was about to face.

Batman. Their very first encounter. Harley held her breath, trying to assume the expression of a bewildered, random and very extremely innocent citizen who had not once in her life committed a crime or killed anybody. No siree. Not this random citizen.

There was a flash of a black cape, and then he was suddenly there when he hadn't been just a moment ago. He appeared in the space it took to blink, and it was enough to make Harley step back, not even due to facade. Batman had always come across as something unreal to her, a distant fairytale or mythical creature that people whispered and the media shouted about - but never anyone she'd have anyone to do with or meet.

Shows what she knew. Her predictive skills were shit.

He was staring at her. She could tell. Harley recognised the odd prickly sensation from many nights spent under close scrutiny within her cell. Sometimes guards, orderlies or doctors didn't have anything better to do - so they came to ogle. Treating her like an animal in the zoo had never done Harley's upstairs any favours. It was why she'd started to bite and hiss and laugh until they shuffled away.

Harley took a tentative step forwards, doing her absolute best to conceal her accent.

"Batman?"

"I'm looking for a man or a woman, possibly a group. They're likely to stand out and behave oddly, and they have a package that I need to intercept. Have you seen anything?"

Harley made sure to pause long enough to make it appear as if she were afraid.

"No, I... don't think so? It's so dark, so I..." She shrugged pathetically, shifting around and fidgeting on her feet.

Batman nodded, staring at her contemplatively.

"What's your name?"

"Maggie Barker."

"Odd. The locket you're wearing says Lucy."

Harley blinked uncomprehendingly, and glanced down at the prop necklace Frost had given her to wear with the rest of her disguise. _Shit_. Harley laughed, somewhat nervously as she was still in character and also _everything was going up in flames on the inside-_

"That's for my sister. She died a few months ago."

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Please, if you see anything odd, call the GCPD. Be safe." Batman ducked his head at her, but did not move from the spot. Harley had half expected him to transform into a bat and fly off in spectacular fashion, but no. Apparently not. He just stood there. She hung around for a few moments, waiting for him to go, but he simply didn't. Bats just stood there, watching her, waiting for her to leave.

Was he planning on tailing her?

Regardless, she had to move. She was beginning to look too suspicious just standing there fidgeting about like a _fool_. She cleared her throat, throwing Bats a simpering smile and then stumbling off to carry on, deliberately lacking her usual grace and finesse.

As she passed him, Harley glanced at him, and their eyes locked, for the most time stopping of moments. It was like one of those moments in the _movies_ where everything went into a freeze frame, and then it's just over. _Boom_. Like that.

Something about his eyes told Harley he saw right through her, and for once - she was actually a little intimidated. Scared, at a stretch.

_Oh, what a thrill. No wonder Mistah J loves to play with the freak in the bat-suit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Hi, hi, hi. I know it's been a while. I'll be honest - I'm struggling. I've had insomnia for about four years now and it's ruining even my day to day existence. Not only does it make it near impossible for me to get a good night's sleep, but it means that when I am actually awake I have no motivation or inspiration for anything. It gets me down. It gets me depressed. So I've been working on updating my fanfics and honestly I've been trying my best with it, but at this stage I doubt I'll be happy with anything I type, so this is the best from the times I attempted to write for you. I've been writing bits here and there whenever I get inspiration or the muse to actually write for this - and the reason it's taking so long is because I want it to be good quality. Sorry this chapter is a little short, I had more plans for it but those will be explored next chapter, hopefully when I have more ability and can do my ideas justice. Thank you for your dedication and patience. I love you all. Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6: Under New Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note - I need to assign a trigger warning to this chapter. There is mention of rape and an implied threat of rape. Nothing happens, and actually, it's dealt with as would be expected, but the word is still there, and the threat is still made, and so I'd like to give fair warning to anyone about to read this. If you would prefer to skip it, please skip past the conversation Harley has with the dodgy guy in the car. Everything should be fine from there. Anyways, sorry this has been a long time coming, and enjoy!

**[ H ]**

Batsy was gone by the time she turned around to take another look at him. Oddly, she missed the hulking figure behind her, and the unexpected loss of her fun triggered the compulsive tendency she had in her mind to pout. Of course, _sane people_ didn't walk around with a childish pucker to their lips, and this attracted more attention than any undercover criminal would have liked. It was a conflicting thing for Harley - because, boy, did she _love_ the attention - the spotlight called to her, practically courted her with the rush it offered her... but did she desire all eyes on her more than she desired The Joker?

Nope. Not even remotely. Harley was crazy - she was fucking _crazy_ \- but Joker? _Joker_ was a whole different kettle of fish. An _entirely_ separate bag of frogs. Every breath that left his body, every movement of muscle, every _infinitesimal_ modicum of his being and personality was so captivating and inevitable to her. She had to have it. Forever. She had to be near it. She had to be able to grasp _him_ and talk to _him_ and revel in the bliss that overcame her when she saw his mouth shape the six letter word that had been assigned to her at birth, and when she heard _her name_ fall from his lips she felt as if she could do anything and try anything and overcome any and all odds. But _most_ importantly - Harley knew that because of _him_ \- no matter how or when her life ended... she would die laughing.

And _that_ , she figured, was a hell of a life well spent.

So away went the pout, and a composed neutrality came to take it's place instead. The onlookers quit their looking, and the prospect of a life spent adored at her Joker's side was suddenly within her reach once again. She couldn't help the little jaunt her body applied to each step. It was an organic thing for Harley. She'd spent her life flipping and twirling and somersaulting about, barely ever allowing herself time to stand still. As a result of lifelong habits and the... _insanity_... Harley was now, as a "grown up", an ever fidgety, ever restless and ever _ADHD_ suffering bundle of energy and static compulsivity.

"Heya, sweetheart. You lookin' for a ride someplace?"

Harley halted in her stride, head swiveling down to zero in on the dodgy looking man in the shifty looking car. She leaned her weight into one foot, her hip jutting out with a hand on it to match, and cocked her head. Slowly, unconcerned with the time passing between his given question and her expected answer, she brought a strip of bubblegum out of her pocket, and unwrapped it from the foil, popping it into her mouth. She watched him as she chewed it, waiting for the pink stuff to loosen up and become malleable enough for her to tuck under her tongue before speaking up.

"Heya, mister. You lookin' for a _gun to your head?"_

Whoever this guy had expected her to turn out to be, and _whatever_ he had thought she'd say - this clearly wasn't it. She observed as his complexion turned a nasty shade of red, and then progressed from there until it was tinged with purple. She could guess what was running through his tiny little mind. God _forbid_ a pretty woman should threaten _him_ \- the big fuckin' dog. Cock of the walk. Master of the streets. His mind probably couldn't process the concept of a man being intimidated by a woman - especially a cutesy looking _blonde_ woman who looked more like a ballerina than the deadly murderer she really was. Eventually, though, after Harley had blown and popped approximately thirteen bubbles, the guy seemed ready to react.

"You wanna be pretty damn careful what you do or say out here on the streets, bitch. _A woman is never safe on the fucking streets._ Especially not at _night_ \- you got that?"

Harley raised her eyebrows, nodding along as he spoke, and tugged her arms out of the straps of the backpack, slinging it from her shoulders into her arms, and unzipped it. He was still speaking while she started to rummage around, pushing aside coke and pills and even something that looked like a diamond encrusted _dildo_ before she found what she was looking for, and with a delighted _'Aha!',_ Harley pulled the pistol out of the bag, and aimed it directly at his head.

"W-woah, honey. What the _fuck_. Easy now, hun. I don't want no trouble."

"You don't? Huh. Sounded a little like you was thinkin' about _rapin_ ' me or some shit, you know?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no-"

"You tellin' me I misunderstood? 'Cause I _always_ do that, and let me tell ya, it gets me in a hell of a lotta trouble, and if you think I got some kinda problem, I think you should tell me. You think I jump to conclusions? I'm not sure. It'd really help a girl out if ya just _told_ me."

"N-no, I think-"

"Oh. So you wanna rape me? Okay."

And she pulled the trigger and shot the asshole right in the centre of his forehead. Fortunately, the entirety of this exchange and subsequent _murder_ took place within the recesses of a dark, dim, damp and downright _dingy_ alleyway. After all, gunshots were not a rarity in Gotham City, and Harley was able to skip right out of that alleyway and continue on her way like Little Red Riding Hood back on track to her grandmother's house after shooting the Wolf in the head. All was well and truly _golden_.

She knew what she was supposed to be looking for - a big old sign, _neon_ , with a black snooker ball and some cards on it. Sure, it wasn't _original_ , but it was associated with _Joker_ \- and so Harley could forgive it. After her trouble with the douchebag in the car it didn't take her long to find the place, and when she did she did so with _gusto_ , kicking the door open with a whoop and a cheer and somersaulted her way over to the bar, throwing in some obligatory backflips and double front flips for added theater.

"I'm here!" She sang, and hopped up onto a bar stool to get herself nice and comfy. A demure, pampered looking man glanced up from his drink, and eyed her like she _couldn't_ crack his head open on the bar and scoop his brains out with a shot glass. She threw a leg up, crossing it over the other, and placed a hand on her knee, leaning against the bar as if she'd been to this place every day for the past six years. "You better _hope_ you ain't the boss of this place, 'cause Mistah J does _not_ get on well with folks who treat his people bad."

At the mention of the Clown Prince himself, the man actually _gasped_ and shrunk away, practically falling off his stool in his haste to get away from the crazy girl who _works for The Joker_. Shortly afterwards, a short dude bustled over, pressing fervent, incessant kisses to her hands.

"Oh, Miss! How glad I am to see you here, under my roof! I trust you'll let Mister Joker know you were met with the utmost hospitality?"

"Geez, pal. Does he have your mum? Your dog? You don't gotta be _scared!_ It's only little old me. Mistah J's behind bars right now, so you get to meet with me instead!"

"I-I see... and... what's your name, Miss...?"

"I'm _Harley Quinn_." She took his hand, shaking it with a firm vigour he obviously hadn't been expecting or thought her capable of, and only released it once she made sure he was smiling at her. "Nice to meetcha."

"Yes... nice to meet you, Miss Quinn. M-my name is Elvis Pritchley."

There was a silent interval, during which Elvis crossed and uncrossed his arms a few times, and shook his hand out, trying to stop the trembling after Harley had shaken it.

"Anyways... I brought the stuff. It's all here. I had to use a bullet, but I'm sure Mistah J's got it covered."

"O-of _course_ , Miss Quinn. Thank you so very much for bringing this all the way across town for me."

"Naw, it was nothin'. You're welcome."

Harley hopped off the bar stool, turning to go, and only walked a few steps before turning around once more. Elvis, who, for only a fleeting moment, had actually looked _relieved_ , fell into a state of nervous formality once again. "Miss Quinn?"

" _Oh!_ I almost forgot!" She giggled clownishly, letting her head fall into a sideways bob that she tapped at playfully with her finger. "Joker knows. He knows you betrayed him. He knows you wanna take over. He knows you're in cahoots with those other assholes from across the way - _you know the ones!_ They blew up the front of the shop the other day, and you let it happen! I heard you opened the vault for 'em, too, Elvis. Naughty. _Anyways_ , Joker knows, and he told me to say _hi_ and _also_ -"

For the second time that night, Harley raised the gun, and shot a man right between the eyes. Twirling one of her braids round her finger, Harley's eyes swept across the inhabitants of the room, considering the staff who were paralysed in her line of sight. "Oh, buddy. _Nice dicky bow_." She gestured towards his bow tie, and waved him over, throwing an arm around his neck when he was close enough. He was about her height, and she liked that. "You're in charge now. Oh, and get me a mojito, wouldya?"


End file.
